The Soul
by TurnYourBack
Summary: Morgan Sullivan has had her first and last love at the same time. That's because Chase, the object of her affection, turned himself in after years of hiding. But now she has found him, months later, in a nondescript mall. But who is he really?
1. Prologue: Forevermore

**The Soul**

**Prologue**

**Forevermore  
**

_The petals were surely heavensent, showering our hair with pink and white. It was spring, and I was sitting in the backyard of none other than Chase Murray, self-admitted geek and Diablo II lover. And I, Morgan Sullivan, self-admitted geek and Sims 2 lover, was staring into his honey-drizzled eyes like it was the last time I'd ever see them._

_Which, under the current circumstance, was true. _

_"Morgan, whatever happens, please remember me. Please don't ever forget all we've done together. And don't ever, even when you're pushing up daisies, forget this," Chase breathed, his sweet scent enveloping me. It was indescribable, a mix of a woodshop, laundry detergent, cotton candy, freshly cut grass, shampoo, some sort of flower and a sweet sugary hint of chocolate. It was embedded in all of my clothes now, no matter what detergent I used._

_Then he leaned in to kiss me one last time. _


	2. Chapter 1: Storm of the Fallen Leaves

Chapter 1

Storm of the Fallen Leaves

It was the spring of 2025 when I lost my first, and last, love: Chase Murray. Now it was summer, and still no word on where Chase, if he still used that name, was. He promised to subdue the soul. He promised me he'd always love me. But then why hadn't I gotten a call?

I sat with my head in my hands, not even caring about how my hacked-up neck stood out from all the other clean, faded lines on everybody else's. All I cared about was finding Chase.

"Uhm, excuse me, miss, may I help you? I'm Ripples Underfoot Poetically, but you can call me Poet," a voice said, and I felt a hand on my shoulder. Looking up, I made eye contact with a very pretty teenager, her faintly luminescent green eyes standing out from her pale skin.

I forced a smile, hoping that the reflective contacts Chase bought for me were sufficient cover for my humanity. At that thought, I bit my lip. A lump forming in my throat, I swallowed hard, trying to speak.

"I'm just looking for American Eagle," I lied. I was sitting in a mall, the territory of the teenaged enemy.

Poet's face brightened. "Oh, gee! I was just headed that way! Follow me!"

I shrugged and smiled again, getting up. "I'm Cherry Blossoms in the Breeze," I said, shaking Poet's hand. "But you can call me Blossom." Faking enthusiasm was one of my strong points.

"Well, come with me, Blossom! I'll introduce you to all my friends and we can all shop together!" She grabbed my wrist and started to run, her many necklaces clattering. I struggled to follow, but managed to keep up with her. Soon she slowed, stopping at a group of teens no older than I was.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Blossom."

The girl nearest to me shook my hand. She had pretty blonde hair that fell to her shoulders, and big silver hoops in her ears. "I'm Midnight Breakwater, call me Mid, and this is Illustrates Fire and Storm of the Fallen Leaves," Mid said, smiling.

I looked into the faces of the two boys in front of me, and my heart suddenly skipped a beat.

Storm of the Fallen Leaves was Chase.

"So then I was like, blue or green, and Blossom over here suggested a totally different outfit that, like, totally went with my wardrobe!" Poet chattered into her cell phone, her arms laden with bags. It had been a long day of shopping, and we were sitting in the food court. Or, they were sitting in the food court eating, and I was watching Chase.

I gulped as Chase turned to me. "So, uh, Morgan, I've been having this feeling all day that I know you from somewhere. Like a past life or something," Chase/Storm of the Fallen Leaves joked.

"Aw, c'mon, Storm, don't get all gooey on me! We've been through three lives each, brother, and I know what you're like around girls!" Illustrates Fire said, shoving a scoop of chocolate malt into his mouth.

Chase shook his head. "No, I'm serious! It's like I know her from somewhere, but it's all distant and crap!"

I smiled. "Well, I work at LuLu Lemon!" I replied, finally able to speak again.

"Nope, no, don't ever go in there," Chase said, waving away my suggestion. Suddenly a flash of recognition shot into his eyes.

"Morgan?"


	3. Chapter 2: So Much For Cover

Chapter 2

So Much For Cover

I gulped again, clearing my throat. They were all looking from Chase/Storm to me and back to Chase/Storm again, confused. "Th-That was my host's human name, Morgan Julia Sullivan," I lied. They all nodded and returned to their food, except for Chase/Storm. Still staring at me, he cautiously took another scoop of his chocolate malt, swallowing with too much force.

"Hey, guys, can I talk to Mor - I mean, Blossom, alone?" Chase/Storm said, taking my wrist.

Illustrates Fire rolled his eyes. "Sure, bro. But if you come back with lipstick all over your face, I'm telling Mom," he said, leaning back in his chair. Mid and Poet laughed lightly.

Mid tapped my free arm. "Those two go way back. They've been to the Origin, can you believe it? It's cool that the hosts are brothers. Their host mother's actually my good friend," she said, grinning. "How about you? Where you from?"

Chase/Storm interrupted me. "I really need to talk to Morgan, make sure she's still human." Suddenly his jaw dropped and he gulped. Everybody suddenly got up and backed away, fearful.

"Human? You mean . . . she's still . . ." Mid said, looking around in horror.

Chase/Storm put his hands up in surrender. "Just a joke, chill out." He tried to reason, but Illustrates Fire shook his head at the flat lie.

"Get the Seekers! INTRUDER!" Poet screamed in her shrill voice, pointing a heavily laden arm at me. Everybody froze, and then chaos broke out. People ran everywhere, and suddenly Chase/Storm leaned over to me.

"Let's get out of here." Suddenly he grabbed Mid's skateboard and pulled me up behind him. Holding onto him for dear life, I noticed we were headed straight for the escalator.

"What are you thinking!?" I screamed to him. "We're gonna kill ourselves!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it," he said. "Pull your feet up . . . NOW!" We jerked our feet up and the skateboard came with us, sliding up onto the escalator railing. I closed my eyes and felt something whiz right by my ear. Looking backwards, I saw two black-clad Seekers with pellet guns at the top of the escalator, firing rapidly.

I grabbed the nearest object - a stiletto from a display - and chucked it in their general direction. My hair was flying behind me, and soon we were racing for the exit. Clutching a wad of his shirt in both hands, I hid my head under the rim of his backwards cap just in time. We shattered the all-glass door, and we were both launched to the ground, the skateboard in pieces. Blood was everywhere, and my head was pounding.

So much for cover.


	4. Chapter 3: Grand Theft Motorcycle

Chapter 3

Grand Theft Motorcycle

My ragged breathing was surely not a good sign. Chase/Storm was sprawled out among the shards of glass, trying weakly to get up.

"Damn plate glass doors . . ." he groaned as he finally righted himself. The Seekers were running towards us on all sides, and as he helped me to my feet I heard a cop car pull up, full sirens on and everything.

Putting our hands up, we waited to die, or do something of the sort. The hot Vancouver air scorched our psyches, drawing our minds to a blank state. I looked at Chase/Storm, but his eyes were looking past me.

"On the count of three, run for that motorcycle," he muttered to me as the Seekers closed in, guns drawn. One held a flashlight, and I cringed as the light reflected off of my contacts. Chase/Storm didn't even blink as the light bounced back at them. "Three . . ."

I felt my hair being lifted up at the back of my neck, and fingers running over the makeshift scar once. "Two . . ."

I saw the officers dragging their handcuffs out, which looked like they hadn't been used, ever.

"ONE!" Chase/Storm yelled, and we pushed through the crowd of onlookers, heading for the green racing bike that was so innocently perched on the curb, keys in the ignition. Nobody bothered with things like that anymore, so it didn't concern me as we pulled away from the curb, bullets ricocheting off the concrete behind us.

I had barely time to think as we merged with traffic, my arms clasped like iron locks around his slim waist. The thin pink scar on his neck was barely visible under his mane of dirty blonde hair, and I could just see his eyes, the same strange honey tint as mine, scanning the traffic as we weaved between lanes.

I could hear the cop cars behind us as we raced though a red light, and I dared a look back. Stuck behind cars ten deep in each lane, we'd be in the next city before they got to the next intersection.

Suddenly the bike swerved and I let out an involuntary scream, the trail of blood from my wounds no longer whipping out behind me, but hitting the right side of my hair again.

"Chill out, Morg! I'm taking the exit, so hold on," he revved the Japanese bike even further, and it launched forward down the off-ramp, leaving me breathless. I could hear the traffic go over the bridge, and the cop cars follow the flow. They had lost us!

"Storm!" I yelled.

He glanced back at me. "They following?"

I shook my head, grinning like a fool. "No! They think we went over the bridge! We're home free!" I yelled, relief colouring my voice. It barely registered that we had no helmets on, another broken Canadian law.

He laughed, and I almost burst into tears from joy from another thought: we were together again.

-----

As we pulled into the shop at the back of his old lot, a number of thoughts came flooding back: Illustrates Fire was obviously his older brother Sanderson, but taken over, and his mother Marylynne was the woman who was friends with Mid, also taken over. It saddened me to think of his entire family, gone.

"Nobody's been here for a long time. The property's off in the forest, so why would they even bother taking it?" he was saying as he rolled down the garage door, swinging the keys to the Yamaha on one finger.

I got off of the bike stiffly, losing my balance and falling over. Chase/Storm caught me just in time, pulling me upright again. Not releasing my hands, he leaned down and kissed my forehead lightly. Looking up at him, I saw the fire in his eyes as he looked at me, not caring if I was covered in blood and powdered glass.

Opening my mouth, I had to swallow before speaking. "Chase?" I asked, caressing his face in one hand.

He nodded. "Both of us. Chase is in there. I let him out sometimes, when I get alone time. It's interesting to from see his point of view, all locked up and having someone else control your body. Today in the mall, I let my guard down. The conversation bored me, so I let him out to take my place, like a stunt double in my head. But then Chase took over fully, and I was trapped. He was the one who got us into this mess. Then, as he realised what he had done, he slipped back again. Shock does that to him. He relayed me a plan, and I followed his lead. I knew how much you meant to him. I'm not afraid of humans, thanks to Chase. He's taught me that the propaganda we're taught in school about humans is a lie."

"Oh, Chase . . ." I said, wrapping my arms around him.

"I love you, Morgan," he said. "We both do."


	5. Chapter 4: Memories and Revelations

Chapter Four

Memories and Revelations

I stepped back at this revelation, looking away to the left to avoid meeting his gaze. I could feel him reach for my hand, but I shoved it in my pocket, shaking my head.

"Morgan . . ." he breathed, stepping closer to me.

"No."

Pusing him away, I walked off to the other corner of the room before turning around and meeting his gaze.

"You're a Soul; you're not Chase. There's no way I can love somebody who has taken him away from me," I said, my breath hitching in my throat.

He bit his lip, looking down at the oil-stained concrete. I could see tears forming in his eyes, and one rolled down his cheek, staining the plaid shirt he wore. Suddenly he turned, bolting for the exit and barely suppressing a sob.

Just before he opened the door, he turned around to face me.

"It's not like I had a choice," he whispered. He could've yelled it to me, but his tone drove a dagger through my heart so fast I couldn't help but gasp for air.

Then, opening the door, I heard him running full-speed towards the house, slamming the screen door behind him.

~ * ~

I couldn't stop crying.

Sitting on a plastic milk crate, my head slumped against the plywood work table Sanderson had built eons ago, the tears wouldn't stop coming.

Memory after memory came flooding back from years gone by, all featuring Chase at one age or another. Putting my head in my hands, my shoulders heaved as another one - very recent, at that - came back to haunt me . . .

_"Morgan? Oh, God, I thought I lost you!" Chase said, lowering his flashlight. I had gone into the yard for a moment to grab some pyjama pants off of the clothesline, but Chase obviously didn't get the memo._

_I smiled. "What? To the pyjama monsters? C'mon, Chase. They'll never get us out here," I replied, rolling my eyes. "After all, we're about thirty kilometres from civilization."_

_He just shook his head, enveloping me in a hug. "Every time you leave the house without telling me where you are could be a death sentence, Morgan." He whispered, his breath smelling of sugar and chocolate._

_I nodded. "I understand."_

_"Morgan?" Chase asked, pulling away._

_"Yeah?"_

_"I love you."_

_I had to blink for a second. The boy who always one-upped me at Sunday school, who kicked me in the face with a soccer ball in third grade, who asked out my best friend just to make me jealous, who I was with because he was the closest thing to a friend I had left in this world, just told me he loved me!?_

_Stammering, I looked away. "Yeah, u-uh, su-sure . . ." I managed to choke out, trying to suppress my own true feelings. I had loved him since the day I met him in kindergarten, but I tried to suppress those feelings around him for the sake of my sanity. I felt like jumping for joy, but I had to keep things under control or else I would have to be locked in the attic and given sensory deprivation until I came back down to earth._

_Sighing, Chase ran his thumb over my cheek. "I can see you're blushing, Morgan."_

_Rolling my eyes, I met his gaze. "Oh-kay, so maybe I love you too . . ."_

_"That's great! Just perfect," he exclaimed, a smile gracing his face. Suddenly he leaned down to my level, and I suddenly knew what was coming._

_Our lips met in a burst of euphoria, and I felt as if suddenly I was flying. His fingers were locked in my hair, and I wasn't about to pull away any time soon. I could taste his hot breath, and I internally kicked myself for eating spinach salad as a midnight snack. The lights from the house illuminated only one side of our faces, which made him look dark and mysterious, but at the same time lighthearted and friendly. Finally he pulled away, gasping for air._

_"Wow," he gasped, his face red. He obviously had just had his first kiss too._

_I raised my eyebrows. "Now can I go get changed?" I asked, smiling._

_He nodded. "But if you see any pyjama monsters, call me," he joked, and I went into the house, not bothering to close the screen door behind me. Going upstairs to our loft, I slipped on the pyjamas. _

_"Nope. No pyjama monsters this time," I whispered, getting into bed._

Shaking my head at the memory, I realised that I had stopped crying. Getting up, I decided it was time to go apologise to Storm.


	6. Chapter 5: Murder Or So I Thought

Chapter 5

Murder . . . Or So I Thought

Openinign the front door to his house, I let the screen door slam against the frame as it bounced back on it's spring, unconcerned about making a lot of noise. Everything looked exactly like it was before, besides a layer of dust three centimetres thick that coated everything.

"Storm?" I called, poking my head into the dining room and then the hall. I heard a faint sob and a squeaking sound, like springs.

It sounded like he was in so much pain, and all thanks to me. Fighting back even more guilty tears, I opened the doorway to the loft. Seeing footprints on the stairs, I saw his bloodied shirt ditched at the bottom of the stairs where it lay in a crumpled heap. It was stained with tears too, along with splotches in the dust where his tears must have fallen as he moved up the stairs.

"Don't call me that . . ." I heard him croak, his voice hollow and broken.

Putting my left hand on the railing, I ascended to the loft, my shoes making the wooden stairs creak underneath me. As I reached the top, I saw that he was on the other side of the bed, turned away from me. His head was in his hands, and his shoulders heaved, hyperventilations making his entire body shudder.

Turning away, I spoke to the wall. "I . . . I'm sorry. I guess I underestimated your feelings. I didn't know . . . how much I meant to you. I saw you, not Chase, in those eyes, and I freaked out. I truly am sor - wait. You're not Storm! You said it wasn't your name, so -" Suddenly I whipped around, my mind turning cold and calculating.

As I circled the bed, I saw that the scar on the back of his neck was bleeding, and that his red switchblade, his most prized inanimate possesion, was also covered in blood and laying open on the floor.

"No . . ." I breathed, making the connection. He turned to look at me, his hands covered in silvery blood. "NO!!!"

He nodded mutely, looking away. "Storm agreed to keep me concious long enough for me to get him out of my head. He _wanted_ to die, Morg. He was screaming in my head. I killed him."

I collapsed onto my knees, every breath making me dizzier and dizzier. The carnage was everywhere. I was even kneeling in it. I heard a high-pitched keening sound, which cut off suddenly. It took me fifteen seconds to realise it was my own screams, and shut my mouth promptly.

I looked up to Chase. "Why, Chase? _Why did you kill him!?_" I screamed, my hands balling up into fists as the tears came and I stood up. "I was just going to tell him I was _sorry!_"

Chase's eyes widened. "Look, Morg, just _calm down_, okay? It's all over with, and it's just the two of us now. He can't interfere with our relationship, the overemotional -"

I cut him off. "How can you _say_ that? He _trusted_ you, Chase! I've lived around Souls for three months now, and they would _never_, in their _wildest dreams_, commit _suicide_ over some stupid _fight_! I realise that I loved him back not because he looked like you, but because you were friends and could understand each other for who you guys were! I thought that you, of all people, could share!"

He looked away. "Well, this time was different. I did him a favour by sparing him and not letting him scream in hysterics for the rest of his existence."

I shook my head. "No, Chase. You did this to yourself because you didn't want some _other man _in my life after _you finally _got me _back_. You murdered him out of _your own selfish desires, _and you're _lucky_ he didn't_ tear _your freaking_ brain to shreds _before you could get him _out!" _I screamed at him.

"Morg, you've got to believe me!" he pleaded, his face paling from the blood loss.

"Not in a thousand _freaking_ years."

And with that I bolted from the room and down the stairs, only to hear hysterical laughter. Running back up to see what had ruined my dramatic exit, I saw Chase rubbing the blood off with a wet towel, the scar on his neck perfect and whole.

"What in the name of heck is up with you, Chase?" I asked, confused.

"So you do love me!" He crowed, running over to hug me.

"Are you okay? Mentally, I mean?" I whispered as he embraced me, wiping away my tears on the back of my sleeve.

"It was all a setup!" He replied, still laughing.

"_What_!?"


End file.
